at me.
“Be safe. Please be safe and get some help.” That said, I walk into the garage and lean against the door as I lock it behind me. I reach into my pocket to document the time I promised I would never allow myself to fall in love again.
When I can’t find my phone, I remember I left it on the charger in the vehicle.
I open the door and grab it, seeing the message T sent. I read it.
GAD is the disease. Call me when you have some time. Good night, my goddess.
I hit call.
“Ava,” he answers.
“What the hell is GAD?” I ask, and for some unknown reason, I burst into tears.
“Ava—”
“I’ve never heard of it. I don’t understand.”
“Ava,” he tries again, but I can’t stop rambling, and when I do try, I sob because I can’t catch my breath.
“T,” comes out.
“You at your father’s home?” he asks. “Are you alone?”
“I’m not a whore. Are you sure—”
“Of course you aren’t.”
“Well, whores get diseases, not people like me!”
“Ava—”
“They get pregnant at sixteen, and—”
“Ava—”
“No, you listen to me—”
The phone goes dead. He hung up on me.
I hate him. I hate Luke. I hate everyone … including myself.
I slide down the door and cover my face as I cry. I cry for love lost. I cry for hate. I cry for Tommy, for Jade, for my father, for Luke, and for me. I cry for T because I gave him an STI, and I cry because I know damn well I don’t have one. Then, when I am done crying for all of us, I cry for Christmas that is no longer a day of hope.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I am startled when there is a light tap on the window behind me.
Embarrassed at the possibility that Luke heard me and hopeful that he has returned to say he was sorry for all the ugly things he said and for what he actually believes about all of us, I stand and turn around.
T.
I wipe off my face and unlock the door, opening it just enough to ask him, “What are you doing here?”
“Are you alone?” he asks.
I take a shaky breath and tell him, “Logan’s asleep.”
And then I cry some more.
I step back as he walks in and shuts the door behind him.
“Too much spirit?” he asks, pushing my tear-soaked hair from my face and lifting my chin up.
My lip quivers, and I can’t form words.
“Oh, Ava, what have you done to yourself?” he says sadly and hugs me.
“Did I?” I ask then stop because I am still trying to catch my breath.
He steps back, not letting me go, but looks down at me. “It is definitely an incurable disease, Ava, but also a joke. GAD would stand for Goddess Ava Disease, and I am seriously afflicted, so much so that I drove far too fast in buggered up weather to get to you.”
“It would be sweet if I weren’t a mess.”
He smiles and strokes his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear.
Lights flash inside the darkened garage, and I look out the window as Luke’s truck passes by my house. He’s going to see her.
I look up at T as more tears fall.
“Ava,” he says sadly, “I wish I knew what to do to make it better.”
“Stay.” I wrap my arms around his neck and close my eyes.
When he doesn’t respond, I open my eyes. He locks eyes with mine and nods once before leaning down and pressing his forehead against mine.
“You’re certain?”
“Never more so.”
“Lead the way,” he says before pressing his lips to my head then taking my hand in his.
SEVEN
----
You can Love more than one person.
— Josie Charles
I walk quietly through the house, his hand tightly in mine. As I walk up the stairs, it’s with a purpose.
At my door, he stops, and I look back.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he says in a deep whisper.
“Please don’t tell me no.” I close my eyes and plead, “Please.”
I hear him take a deep breath, and then he slowly lets it out.
I take a chance and walk into my room, meeting no resistance. I then hear the door shut and lock behind us.
I turn, and he lets go of my hand to rub his hand
“Be safe. Please be safe and get some help.” That said, I walk into the garage and lean against the door as I lock it behind me. I reach into my pocket to document the time I promised I would never allow myself to fall in love again.
When I can’t find my phone, I remember I left it on the charger in the vehicle.
I open the door and grab it, seeing the message T sent. I read it.
GAD is the disease. Call me when you have some time. Good night, my goddess.
I hit call.
“Ava,” he answers.
“What the hell is GAD?” I ask, and for some unknown reason, I burst into tears.
“Ava—”
“I’ve never heard of it. I don’t understand.”
“Ava,” he tries again, but I can’t stop rambling, and when I do try, I sob because I can’t catch my breath.
“T,” comes out.
“You at your father’s home?” he asks. “Are you alone?”
“I’m not a whore. Are you sure—”
“Of course you aren’t.”
“Well, whores get diseases, not people like me!”
“Ava—”
“They get pregnant at sixteen, and—”
“Ava—”
“No, you listen to me—”
The phone goes dead. He hung up on me.
I hate him. I hate Luke. I hate everyone … including myself.
I slide down the door and cover my face as I cry. I cry for love lost. I cry for hate. I cry for Tommy, for Jade, for my father, for Luke, and for me. I cry for T because I gave him an STI, and I cry because I know damn well I don’t have one. Then, when I am done crying for all of us, I cry for Christmas that is no longer a day of hope.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I am startled when there is a light tap on the window behind me.
Embarrassed at the possibility that Luke heard me and hopeful that he has returned to say he was sorry for all the ugly things he said and for what he actually believes about all of us, I stand and turn around.
T.
I wipe off my face and unlock the door, opening it just enough to ask him, “What are you doing here?”
“Are you alone?” he asks.
I take a shaky breath and tell him, “Logan’s asleep.”
And then I cry some more.
I step back as he walks in and shuts the door behind him.
“Too much spirit?” he asks, pushing my tear-soaked hair from my face and lifting my chin up.
My lip quivers, and I can’t form words.
“Oh, Ava, what have you done to yourself?” he says sadly and hugs me.
“Did I?” I ask then stop because I am still trying to catch my breath.
He steps back, not letting me go, but looks down at me. “It is definitely an incurable disease, Ava, but also a joke. GAD would stand for Goddess Ava Disease, and I am seriously afflicted, so much so that I drove far too fast in buggered up weather to get to you.”
“It would be sweet if I weren’t a mess.”
He smiles and strokes his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear.
Lights flash inside the darkened garage, and I look out the window as Luke’s truck passes by my house. He’s going to see her.
I look up at T as more tears fall.
“Ava,” he says sadly, “I wish I knew what to do to make it better.”
“Stay.” I wrap my arms around his neck and close my eyes.
When he doesn’t respond, I open my eyes. He locks eyes with mine and nods once before leaning down and pressing his forehead against mine.
“You’re certain?”
“Never more so.”
“Lead the way,” he says before pressing his lips to my head then taking my hand in his.
SEVEN
----
You can Love more than one person.
— Josie Charles
I walk quietly through the house, his hand tightly in mine. As I walk up the stairs, it’s with a purpose.
At my door, he stops, and I look back.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he says in a deep whisper.
“Please don’t tell me no.” I close my eyes and plead, “Please.”
I hear him take a deep breath, and then he slowly lets it out.
I take a chance and walk into my room, meeting no resistance. I then hear the door shut and lock behind us.
I turn, and he lets go of my hand to rub his hand
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